


Somewhere In The Haze

by Valmouth



Category: DCU (Animated), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Wally, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Bruce, Wally is doomed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman was hunched over, arm across his midsection, and what was visible of his face beneath the mask was flushed. Breathing definitely harsher. </p>
<p>Which could mean so many things, Flash reminded himself. Usually it meant that Batman was pissed and someone was going to pay the price. This time, it was probably to do with being in heat. Which would piss the Batman off anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere In The Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own no rights to these characters or to the various creative universes they're derived from. I mean no offence by posting this and definitely make no money from it.

Who would have thought, Flash thought dazedly, that beneath the mask, the kevlar, the cape, the scowl, the _looming_ – there beat the heart of an omega.

Not that it mattered, he was at pains to add, he himself was a beta and it didn’t have to mean anything at all. Nope. Not a thing. Omega power and everything.

Batman glared at him.

Which, for the Flash, was a nightmare-inducing vision taking into account the strong smell of omega want in the air. A bit like musk and something earthy. Not unpleasant, actually.

Not that he was attracted; God, no.

Batman was hunched over, arm across his midsection, and what was visible of his face beneath the mask was flushed. Breathing definitely harsher.

Which could mean so many things, Flash reminded himself. Usually it meant that Batman was pissed and someone was going to pay the price. This time, it was probably to do with being in heat. Which would piss the Batman off anyway.

Though what the hell Batman was doing in the Watchtower during a full heat was anybody’s guess. There were superheroes up here; people who did ten impossibly stupid things before breakfast everyday just to protect their city and the people they loved. That was the very definition of ‘alpha’.

And here was the Batman. The Dark Knight himself. The strategist, the Ringleader, the guy with the biggest, brassiest balls Flash had ever metaphorically seen, and what was he? An omega.

Not an alpha. Not a beta. An omega.

Not that he had anything against omegas. They were sweet people, nurturing, pretty – some of his best friends were omegas.

“Shut up,” Batman growled.

Meant to growl. It came out a little higher than normal, and a little breathy.

“Did you just... moan?” Flash gulped.

Batman glared again.

It was impossible to tell if his pupils were dilated behind the visor.

Going from the smell alone Batman was pretty far gone.

He could almost taste the pheromones on the back of his tongue, which was saying something because he was a beta, and he didn’t usually get the same effect off an omega heat as an alpha.

For the smell to be that strong, the guy had to be a few hours in at least.

“Why didn’t you teleport out?” he demanded.

“Tried,” Batman grunted, “Teleporter’s broken.”

Of course.

“Plane?”

“Grounded.”

Of course it was. He knew it was; it was why they were all up here in the first place, trying to fix the Watchtower three hours after some evil jerk tried to blow them out of the sky again. The Batplane had been smashed up taking on the enemy ships alongside Hawkgirl and Blue Beetle.

They’d barely piled the bad guys in a heap before the alphas had started sniffing the air.

He’d never seen anything like it. One second they were celebrating a victory, the next, half a dozen members of the Justice League had tried to dogpile Batman. Who had promptly proceeded to kick everybody’s asses.

Hawkgirl was going to be pissed about her concussion. When she came out of rut.

“I don’t understand,” he said again, “What about suppressants?”

“Dose wore off.”

“And you don’t keep a stock here? Or in the plane?”

“Not meant to be here. But... emergency.”

Batman not speaking in full sentences. Great.

Broken Watchtower, broken Justice League, broken Batman. Superman and Wonder Woman were going to ask uncomfortable questions if he didn’t fix this. And thank God J’onn didn’t have a type at all. Flash would have had some serious difficulties keeping him out.

They’d gone through the mech training room, the kitchens, six suites and an air duct to make it back to Batman’s quarters. Flash had had to actually fight against their own people. Then he’d been grabbed by the collar, dragged in here, and Batman had initiated a lock-down Flash hadn’t even known existed for individual rooms.

“J’onn, they’ll try to get in. Keep them out. The further you hold them back, the easier it will be to reason with them. I’ve got Flash here in case anyone gets through.”

“How is anyone going to get through?” Flash had demanded.

“Ventilation shaft. A few of them could break through the walls given enough time. The system override is still effective and I can’t block them from in here.”

Ah, the good old days from a couple of hours ago, when Batman could talk in complete sentences.

Flash was growing increasingly worried that the Batman was losing out to heat-haze.

There were stories, of course, of how bad heat-haze could be. Omegas begging anyone they could find to mate with them.

He couldn’t imagine Bats doing anything like that. Then thought of Batman on hands and knees, desperate to be taken; legs spread, wet and dilated and ready to be knotted.

He readied himself to scrub his brain and claw his eyes out but the image was suddenly, strangely fascinating. In a morbid, terrifying way.

“Shower,” he announced.

“What?”

“Cold shower. You can cool down and wash up at the same time.”

“Wouldn’t help,” Batman muttered.

“It’s worth a try.”

“Have to stay ready.”

“Look, the door’s locked...”

“No,” Batman growled, “Can’t. Stand ready. Be- be prepared.”

Flash frowned. “At least take off the suit. You’ve got to be roasting alive in there.”

“No.”

“If it’s the mask thing, I’ll turn my back.”

Batman didn’t even answer. Just hunched tighter.

He wasn’t sitting, which, yeah, Flash wasn’t going to touch that one but he was leaning against the wall. Not all that unusual given Flash had seen him after battles, unobtrusively resting against the closest piece of support while he caught his breath and took stock of the situation. This, though, this wasn’t anything like that. This was lying down in a vertical fashion. Rubber legs, weak knees, liquid muscles – the works. That flush was also shifting from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘miserable’.

It was a subtle difference, but they’d been in here a couple of hours so far and Flash figured it was understandable.

“I can go and...”

“No.”

“But I’ll just check...”

“No.”

“I won’t...”

“No.”

“Just...”

“No.”

Flash slumped against the door and listened glumly to his stomach growl.

The insistent tug of arousal hadn’t gone away yet but after a couple of hours he was getting pretty good at ignoring it. Plus, he was hungry.

Plus, Batman.

He eyed the door.

“Think they’ve got everyone secured?” he asked softly.

“J’onn would have called.”

It still sounded like him – arrogant and annoying.

It reassured Flash like nothing else.

He breathed out, daring to look away from the door for long enough to relax and settle in. Put his back to the metal so he’d know if someone tried to break it in, which left him free to stare. Not in a bad way, but an ‘I can’t believe this shit is real’ kind of way.

He wondered if Robin knew.

“No.”

He jumped.

Batman straightened up. Somewhat. And glared. “And no one is going to tell him.”

“There’s about thirty people who just saw you going into heat,” Flash protested, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “How do you plan to keep this under wraps?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me,” Flash said seriously.

Batman relaxed just a touch. Wasn’t anything obvious, of course, just Flash thought he saw his weight shift back into the wall again.

He also saw Batman shift from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable, and it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out what the hell was going on under that armour.

“Um,” he said.

“What?”

“You know,” he said carefully, “They went over this in sex ed in school.”

Batman didn’t answer but the silence got a lot icier.

“And the general idea was to stick the omega somewhere private so they could... do whatever.”

“Flash...”

“I’ll wait outside, Bats. You guys always have... something... I mean, for the occasion, right?”

“Something?”

“Like, to help with the knotting?” Flash grinned weakly. “Guess you don’t keep it in your utility belt, though.”

It probably wasn’t the wisest crack given the guy wasn’t known for his sense of humour, and was known for his ability to break bones. Flash saw the last five seconds pass rapidly before his eyes as he cringed.

“Oh geez. Sorry.”

Batman shook his head.

“I didn’t mean it like it sounded, Bats.”

Batman hunched further, arm tightening around his midsection.

“Are you okay?”

A low growl filtered out.

Flash shivered.

“Er, Batman?”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Batman said, clear for the first time in the last fifteen minutes.

Flash felt his stomach drop. “Bats, what are you…?”

“Tried not to think… tried…”

“J’onn,” Flash tapped urgently at his comm, “J’onn, buddy, how’s it going out there? We need a javelin. Or med bay.”

“Negative. Cyborg is still on the loose. Repeat, Victor is still trying to get in there.”

Flash swore.

Batman growled and clenched his fists.

“Need...”

“Shower!” Flash announced.

If anything, that flush suddenly darkened.

Flash’s brain shut down again. “What?”

“Need.... so empty.... Flash...”

“Batman?”

“Oh God.”

At about that point, Batman crumpled. Well, as much as a heavily armoured vigilante could crumple. He went down on his knees, hands yanking at cape and cowl and fastenings Flash couldn’t even see.

Flash stared.

He rattled frantically at the door just as Bruce, face flushed and half-delirious, turned his face into the wall and bared his throat.

“Oh hell,” Flash said weakly.

“Shut up,” Batman growled, and then moaned as he slid his hand down the front of his opened uniform.

Flash turned to slam his forehead into the metal door and focused completely on the crackle of pain. And not, you know, on the sounds behind him.

Or the smell, which was suddenly stronger and muskier and seductive…

He bit his tongue.

The low whine was deep and dark and it coincided with a jump in his pulse that sent little red sparks shooting through his nerves. Something fizzed in his brain and tightened in his muscles and it wasn’t like sex ed hadn’t covered that either. Omega pheromones were designed to draw in anyone in the near vicinity. Alphas, betas, other omegas – hell, J’onn could probably walk in and smell it and J’onn didn’t have human orientation.

Flash groaned at the thought that J’onn might be able to hear Batman’s need. Surely even Bats couldn’t help projecting when he was so keyed up.

“Flash.”

“I swear I’m not looking,” he said, and winced at the rough burr in his own voice.

He clenched his fists against the door.

“So empty…”

The purr sounded like something in a dream. Nightmare. Dream. He wasn’t sure. Couldn’t think straight.

“Ah shit,” he swore softly, and the insistent tug of arousal was getting a lot more insistent as the sounds of flesh against flesh filtered through the absolute silence of the room.

Such a little room, his fevered brain reminded him, almost nothing at all to a speedster. Even Batman wouldn’t see him coming, and from the sounds of it, Batman was too busy to stop him if he did go over there.

He refused to think about all those things he could be doing if he was over there.

Which meant he was getting an avalanche of images – of Batman’s scarred body, and thick, heavy muscle, stretched out and spread out against the unforgiving floor of the sparsely furnished quarters. Bruce Wayne – and oh, how that made his heart rate pick up – in presentation position like the pornos had it…

And then Flash imagined Batman throttling him for the indignity, and that was enough to cool the fire in his blood.

Anyway, he was a beta. He couldn’t knot, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Guh…”

“Just let me know when you’re done,” he growled, and thumped his head against the door again.

A little pain never hurt anybody, and a mild concussion was preferable to all the ways Batman could make his life a living hell.

Which, sadly, was pretty close to what the next couple of hours felt like. There they were, Batman going nuts on his side of the room, Flash going insane on his, and a perfectly serviceable bed standing empty between them.

Flash was almost ready to cry when J’onn said, “All secured. And Superman and Wonder Woman have returned.”

Clearly Batman heard it too, because the next thing, Batman was attempting to clean himself up. The low growls and groans had given way to strangely high-pitched whimpers about a half hour ago and if Flash had sometimes thought that Batman’s voice was pretty sexy, then this was just a killer.

He was ready to hug the Big Guy by the time Superman punched in the override to the override to the… yeah. His brain wasn’t working.

“Bruce!”

“Stay away.”

A harsh, heavy inhalation, and Flash froze.

Because, yeah. Why not? Why the hell not? Just because Superman was the world’s biggest Boy Scout didn’t mean boy scouts couldn’t be human.

“Batman, I can smell it but it doesn’t affect me, remember?”

Oh right. Kryptonian. Flash sagged in relief.

“Diana?”

Batman’s throat was raw.

“She’s locked herself in a secure cell, like the other alphas. We’ve got our shuttle refuelled. I can take you back to Earth now.”

Flash risked a look around. And wished he hadn’t.

Batman looked like he’d been dragged through a bush backwards. The cowl was on, but the eye lens were retracted. His uniform was only half-fastened, his cape was crushed, and he was all tensed up like he was afraid of how tight the suit was.

Flash winced sympathetically. He’d had those days when he was a teenager. And given the Bat suit’s armour, it was probably not comfortable at the best of times, never mind with a five hour heat wave.

Luckily they got Batman out of there.

And then Flash could go to his room and jerk off furiously at the thought of all the ways he could totally have been a worse human being and taken advantage of a lowly omega and how he could have been an alpha and knotted the hell out of Batman right there in the Watchtower, and then – because his brain had no shame at all – how all the various alphas could have taken turns and how wrecked Bruce would have looked and how this could have lasted for days and been one hell of an orgy…

He was sore by the time he’d worked the compulsion out of himself.

And Superman came back and made a lot of noises about tracking Poison Ivy’s new pheromone toxins with a perfectly straight face.

“You are not supposed to be able to lie so well,” Flash frowned, staying back after the debrief.

Superman smiled just a little. “Just because I don’t like doing it doesn’t mean I can’t when I have to.”

Flash snorted. “Seems there’s a lot of that about.”

Superman’s gaze sharpened. “Meaning?”

“Meaning how the hell did he pull this off? All these years and no one’s figured it out.”

“You know Batman. He’s a private person.”

“There’s private and then there’s this.”

Superman raised his eyebrows. “That surprises you? Given who he is, and what he does, it’s not so hard to imagine.”

“But you know.”

“Er.” Superman looked uncomfortable, and looked away. “X-ray vision. Early on. I was checking for broken bones and kind of got an eyeful.”

Flash got a sudden image of those impersonal drawings of omega anatomy – the womb and tract and the squished look of everything crammed into the kind of body that was still adapting to be more hit than miss with its biological imperative. And then his brain tried to superimpose it into Batman’s hard, solid body built for aggression rather than nurturing, and he felt his world tilt on its axis.

“Look, Wally,” Clark said suddenly, softly, “He’s put a lot of time and effort into keeping this a secret and…”

“Geez, big guy, I’d never tell about something like this. What do you take me for?”

“I know I can trust you, Flash, but I wanted to be clear.”

“How is he?” Flash asked bluntly.

“He’ll survive. He always does.”

He did. And they did. And no one was any the wiser.

 


End file.
